A Shield About Me
by JustWrite
Summary: A story of the endurance, suffering, and the lifetime of Lillia. Told in her POV. I really can't describe this, so you'll have to read for yourself. Ch 3 finally up!
1. Days of the Past

**Chapter 1**

There was something about the little town that told us we had found exactly what we were looking for. Something that held us there when we thought we'd rest there no more than two days. Perhaps it was the aura of peacefulness that could be found in every corner, or the heartwarming welcomes we received from the few but lively villagers.

The funny thing was, we weren't even planning on finding the town. We were on our way to a city which lay on the coastline, but had to take a detour when our energy was diminished three quarters of the way there. Fortunately, we came across a traveling salesman who pointed us in the direction of the little village. After spending a day there, we were transfixed. It was the sort of quiet we were looking for— quite unlike the busy university where we had met.

"Well, hun'," David had whispered as I reclined in his arms, watching the sun sink below the horizon a few days after we had settled in, "who would have thought? Me and you, and our happily ever after." The words became permanently ingrained in my mind from that day forward. _Me and you, and our happily ever after_. They held such a sense of well-being, a hope and security that I had longed for my entire life. A feeling I thought, that once I had found it, would never go away.

But I was young and naive then. David and I had been newlyweds at the time, and had recently graduated college. We had both majored in botany; for we both shared the love for nature, particularly flowers. That was another thing that had rooted us to this village; its wide variety of plants and flowers could keep us entertained for days. We would lie in the grass on Mother's Hill for hours at a time admiring the beauty of a newly blossomed flower.

At the university people had thought us odd for this. Especially David, for it was not normal for a boy to be so passionate about flowers. But he and I both understood that the beauty of a flower could do much more than soothe the vision. Flowers could mend a grieving heart, they could cheer a desolate room, set a smile upon the face of a loved one. And most of all, they could heal. Not all of them, of course. It was when you mixed the the petals of certain flowers you could cure almost anything. A headache, the common cold, even an itch. Unfortunately for us, however, they couldn't heal diseases. They couldn't heal me.

When my daughter Popuri was four, I was diagnosed with a long-term illness. Since the town was small and the doctor wasn't as highly trained as in larger cities, he couldn't place what exactly it was. All he knew was that my health was failing— and fast. Soon afterward I began to lose my mobility; it became difficult to make a trip to the store for milk and eggs. It was nearly impossible to travel again to the hill which my husband and I most loved, and so he brought the flowers to me. But it wasn't the same.

It wasn't long before I became completely incapable of leaving the house. The chicken ranch we had started years back fell into the hands of David and my ten-year-old son, Rick. They kept the chickens healthy while I dealt with customers. And that was my excitement for the day.

When Rick was of age(in the village this was sixteen-years-old), David left to seek a cure. As much as we protested, he was determined. He couldn't stand to see me silently suffering, idly passing the hours of the day. He knew me well enough to know that I longed to be outside in the cool, crisp air again. And so he left.

Things began to steadily decline after that. Popuri and Rick fought and bickered constantly, and as much as I tried, my naturally gentle voice couldn't raise to the volume needed to end their silly feuds. I usually spent my time reading or writing, for it was all I could do to keep myself from going insane. Summer was especially hard; for when corn began to ripen the villagers had little need of chicken feed. Financially, we were struggling. Physically, I was suffering. And emotionally, I was a wreck.

And that's what the present holds for me now. It's been seven years since David went to search for the cure. Rick is twenty-three now, and while he could be living and raising a family of his own, he stays with me. Popuri is eighteen, more beautiful than ever, and spends most of her days at the beach with the traveling boy Kai, who visits Mineral Town in the summer. While I wish the best for both of my children, I hope they do not marry and desert me.

For then, I would be completely and utterly alone.

_AN: Well, I know I'm still working on my other fic still, but I couldn't help but start this one. Lillia is a great character, in my opinion, and deserves a fic. So yeah... I know this is probably really boring so far; cause it's just past events... but I assure you... it **WILL** get more exciting! Or so I hope. Oh, I will try to write longer chapters than this. It's hard for me, yes... but I shall try! Anyway, critique/comments are welcomed, as long as its not flaming me for your own personal entertainment. Thank ye all kindly. _

**Disclaimer: **Harvest Moon and all its characters be owned by cooler, much more creative peoples than I. The only thing I own is this keyboard on which I type.


	2. The Woman Whom No One Knows

**Chapter 2**

When someone takes a look at me, I suppose they see a weak, fragile and seemingly helpless woman. Judgments are too soon made on appearances, and unfortunately for me, that is how my reputation is formed. I have longed to change that, and often times I wonder why this disease was brought upon me. What I want to show people most of all is that I am strong, and that I can change the world, too.

The problem is, no one will give me that chance. I'm always the one who is helped, the one who requires assistance, the one who sits and watches while others do the work. I feel helpless, yet I strive not to be. What I long for is for someone to come, to ask for help, advice—anything— and I will give it to them. That's the side of Lillia I want Mineral Town to know. Not necessarily respect— but know.

I watch my children's generation; it is interesting the people they are becoming. I know that Popuri longs for a mother to relate to— one who understands her feelings about Kai, and consequently, her actions. But I cannot relate. Her love is born in her eyes, not her heart. Kai isn't a bad young man, but I fear his mind is set on the wrong things. He doesn't see the world as David and I have seen it— yet neither has Popuri. And as much as I am glad about that, I am also a bit disappointed. They take much for granted, and dwell on things which appeal to the senses rather than to the spirit and mind. I wish to tell them that they cannot remain happy with the tangible things, but I know they will not take me seriously. For I am only an old diseased woman.

Rick is a completely different story. He works all the time; he sees it his duty to make sure the ranch is successful. I tell him to take it easy, and to enjoy life while he is young. But he always reminds me of his promise to his father, that he would take care of us. And he has been— but still, I am concerned for him. I do not want him to only experience the bitterness of life. He takes any decline in income, any slight miscalculation, or anything that might hurt the ranch to heart. When he cannot do everything by himself, he is angry. I hear him arguing with himself in his sleep. My only way to get him to stop thinking so much about his work is to send him to the market, where I know the young lady Karen lives. I know, despite his hardset concentration on the ranch, that he likes her very much. I just hope he realizes this himself before it is too late.

I sit on the couch reading. It is a favorite pass time of mine, for it is the only way I can know a world outside of the ranch. Of course, sometimes the mayor or one of the ladies of the village stops by to tell me current news, gossip, and the various happenings in the village. But I never feel as if I am truly part of it. When I read, I feel as if I can move again, travel to places far from here, get up from this musty old couch and venture into something exciting, something meaningful. I pretend as if I'm not the middle-aged disabled woman who sells bags of chicken feed day in and day out. I often dream of my earlier days with David, it seems as if they were a story of pure and true love. I yearn for them again, I am regretful that I did not fully take advantage of them while I could.

The bell on the door rings and I am shaken from my thoughts. In walks a worn, tired Barley, my main customer. He offers me a weak smile and I greet him with a friendly 'hello'. He buys twenty-two bags of feed, hands me the money, and walks out again. And we are finished with the transaction. I know that he will be the only customer today; for rarely do I get more than one a day. The next action for me will be the arrival of Popuri and Rick, who will bicker and fuss, and I will lay and wonder why I cannot stop them. Then Popuri will make dinner, we will eat, and then Rick will go tend to the chickens one last time, Popuri will go out with a friend or with Kai, and I will read. Then they come home, and we sleep.

And so passes the average day of Lillia, the nostalgic bookworm who wishes to change the world— the woman whom no one knows.

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_AN: Sorry it took sooo long to get another chapter up; and that it's probably not the greatest. I do feel it was necessary to put Lillia's ambitions and longings and stuff up here; even though now I am not sure what I will include next chapter. Anyway, thanks for the reviews, and thanks for reading. I'll see to Chapter 3. -JW_


	3. Will it be okay?

**Chapter 3**

"You _never_ do anything, Popuri!" I watch in dismay as my two children bustle downstairs in the middle of a heated argument. Rick's face is almost as red as his hair, and Popuri's eyes are flashing with rage. I try raising my voice in order to stop them, though as usual, they do not heed me.

"I am always the one cleaning the coops, watering the corn, feeding the chickens... the only thing _you _ever do is go to the beach and hang out with that loser boyfriend of yours!" Rick continues, his voice raising all the while.

"That's not true!" Popuri retorts, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I always try to help out, but you say I can't! You say I'm incapable! But I'm _perfectly_ capable, Rick! You just never give me a chance!"

"That's because you're always messing up... always knocking things over or dropping the eggs, yet I'm sure there are some idiot-proof jobs you could still do, you just never take the time to THINK ABOUT IT!" Rick screams so loudly that Popuri is knocked backward. They are getting out of control now, and I have been trying my best to separate the two.

"I hate you, Rick! I hate you!" Tears are streaming down Popuri's face now, and I go to her in comfort. Rick is still fuming.

"Oh, sure, protect her, mom! She's always been a mama's girl, crying when she doesn't get her way!" I can't believe Rick's words. I let go of Popuri and turn to face the fuming boy.

"Rick, think of what your father would say if heard you say that!" I scold him. "What would he think if he were here?"

He squints his eyes. "But he's _not_ here, is he! No, and look at what he's left us with, mom! What good has he done for us lately!"

Now I have had enough. Rick has finally crossed the line. "Rick," I say quietly but sternly, "go up to your room. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. Your father is—"

"—searching for some flower that probably doesn't even grow, mom! He's made you weaker by leaving you! Don't you see it?" I feel faint at his words. I have thought this before, of course, but I know I can't lose hope. I have to believe David is doing the right thing...

All of the sudden I see darkness set in and my knees go weak and buckle. A moment later I feel Popuri's girlish arms supporting me.

"Mom!" she yells, forgetting temporarily about her argument with her brother. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yes, I think so," I reply quietly, moving toward the couch with the help of Popuri. After helping settle me down, she turns angrily back toward Rick.

"See what you've done?" she screamed. My heart sank. "You know mom's weak! You know she can't be subjected to your constant attacks, Rick!"

Rick said nothing, but wore an expression that showed he was trying his best to refrain from exploding once again. Popuri came and knelt down by the couch on which I was now lying. "I'll go and get Doctor Tim," she said.

"No, no, dear," I told her, finding my voice again. "I'll be fine with a bit of rest." She seemed dissatisfied with my reassurance.

"Okay, but—" she cast a sideways glance at Rick, "if anything bothers you, let me know, and I'll go and get him right away."

I nod, and Popuri brushes past a still silent Rick and climbs up toward her room. Rick stands for a moment longer, still red in the face, and then heads outside to the chicken coop. The room is peaceful once again.

Though my mind whirls with thoughts. What if what Rick said was true? Was David really hurting me more by leaving me here, all alone? Does a flower with such powers to heal me even exist? I feel the brims of my eyes become warm, and know that I cannot be discovered crying by my children, so I quickly close them and try pushing the thoughts from my mind. I let it wander onto various lighter subjects until, inevitably, I fall asleep...

I hear a voice, seemingly faraway, and it is speaking to me. "_But are you sure it is best?"_ It is soft but deep. I recognize it right away. "_I never thought it would come to this..._ "

I open my mouth in reply, though I do not know where he is; I cannot see anything around me but blackness. "I'm not so sure anymore..." I say.

And then I see him. Just as I remember him. A small room comes into focus around me, and I recognize it as our living room. He looks down at me, an expression of sadness marked with love set on his face, a look that has always stuck in my mind. "It'll be okay. I'll be back soon enough," he says. "It'll all be okay..."

I reach out toward him. "Don't worry..." he whispers, his voice fading away. _"It will be okay..." _

I reach out, but my hand touches nothing but air. As quickly as he had appeared he fades, and I see nothing but the still room again. I sit up and look around, finding a room worn from years of neglect. I sigh.

_"_It'll be okay..."I repeat.

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_AN: Bleh, that took me forever. Super sorry about that, folks! And I know it is short... and probably not as good as the last couple of chapters... but I had to write some sort of transition, here. To what, you will find out... and HOPEFULLY soon. Anyway,__ thanks bunches for the spiffy reviews, and I really hope you're still with me on this one! For you new readers, let me know what you think. Until next time— JW. _


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